


Hot, sticky sweet

by Kinkerbell-made-me-do-it (TheMusicalCC)



Series: Foolin' round the Firehouse [2]
Category: Ghostbusters (Comics), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Smut, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, sex in the work-place, thankfully away from anything that might explode, they be kinky but not stupid, trekkie monster voice PORN PORN POOOORN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 18:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16023098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMusicalCC/pseuds/Kinkerbell-made-me-do-it
Summary: There is a smile in her eyes. A positively predatory one. Shit. He’s not sure if he’s more turned on or intimidated.Actually, both.Actually, more turned on than anything.(Or 'That time Ray was THIS CLOSE to getting traumatized for life')





	Hot, sticky sweet

His fly coming down is a weak impression on the back of his mind, overpowered by the maddening heat spreading from his lower belly and threatening to completely cloud his senses, and the feeling of Janine's hand over his inner thigh, stroking almost languidly. Then, there is a short, playful squeeze of a hand over his briefs and he grunts, swallowing, feeling himself strain against the fabric. She's gotten pretty good at eliciting a reaction from him with just subtle touches in the right places, but as of now, with the idea and the anticipation seeded into his mind and with her body shifting to better fit between his legs, Egon's feeling rock hard already and it's more of an effort to  _not_  have too strong a reaction, lest Ray somehow hears them upstairs. 

“He’s drilling _and_ listening to Aretha” she had said, dripping honey with every word into his ear, hands roaming over his body underneath the lab robe. He can hear the music faintly down in the basement, even through the two floors that separate them from where Ray is working, so he has to concur that it's unlikely they'll be heard “What are the odds of him actually hearing anything? I  _know_ you’re not  _that_ loud” 

He would have protested, but the truth is he found the way her hand pulled his shirt out of his trousers terribly distracting. He didn't dare try to talk sense into her, not when he himself had been the one to put the idea into her head in the first place, not so long ago. Besides, was he really against it? If he thought about it, really thought about it, it sounded like a... rather exciting challenge.  

And he’d never been one to decline a challenge.  

Which leads to his present ordeal. Janine unbuckles his belt and un-tucks his shirt, landing a small, playful kiss over his skin, right above the waist of his underwear. At this point it's a little ridiculous, but he feels himself blush all the same. He often finds that sex with Janine feels a lot like being worshipped and while it's part of what makes it amazing, it also makes him very flustered. He could have never imagined that someone would be so into him and he still doesn't quite do, but the way her lips and her fingers press and coax over his skin is pretty much reverent. His heart hammers in his throat. 

Finally, the hand that squeezed him moves to release his member and she shifts closer, making him squirm and fist his hands tightly over the table in a struggle to keep himself together. Janine’s fingers curve around his base and pump him firmly, as her tongue traces the underside of his glans slowly, tentatively. Her eyes are set on his face, reading his expressions from under thick eyelashes. Egon determines, based on the visible dilating of her pupils that she rather likes what she’s seeing and that’s not all... there is a smile in her eyes. A positively predatory one. 

_Shit._ He’s not sure if he’s more turned on or intimidated.  

Actually, both. 

Actually, more turned on than anything. 

Her thumb moves for his tip, already wet with precum, circling gently. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple, a low noise rumbling in his throat as his fingers dig into his palms. Janine takes him into her mouth, tongue dancing on his skin, making his back arch, a short groan leaving his lips. She slides back, hollowing her tongue over the underside of his penis until just the tip of it is at his glans and then back in, working much shorter strokes, easing into a rhythm that allows Egon to breathe but lights every nerve in his body with sparks of mind-blurring pleasure that makes him let out a string of curses under his breath.  

At this point, she’s all but radiating with self-satisfaction at his reactions- Egon is not one to use that kind of language unless the situation is well beyond his control, and there is definitely a thrill involved for her in making him utter them. She hums around him. The vibration makes his hips jerk forward a little bit, sucking air through his teeth, brow ruffling with the effort of keeping himself from crying out. This seems to give her an idea, as she looks at him straight to the eye and then moans.  _Loudly_. He groans and his hand reaches for her hair, not quite tugging it, but sinking his fingers into it hard enough to make her shiver. 

Janine takes this as a cue to take him deeper, the hand that’s been pumping him from the base during the ordeal sliding further down to massage his testicles. His bones turn to jelly, a hand grasping the edge of the desk to keep him from sliding down the chair, eyes sliding shut in pure bliss. He half-moans for a moment before gritting his teeth shut to keep the noise from leaving him completely, and tries to think about ectoplasm, about machinery pieces, about particle physics. About just about anything that helps him to not finish just yet- 

“You OK, Iggy?” comes Ray’s voice from the basement door at his back. Egon starts, straightening his back guiltily and something in the back of his mind goes ’ _Yes, that ought to do it’_ _._ Janine’s mouth, still on him, has gone still. 

“Fine, Raymond” he says, trying not to sound as winded as he is. The hand that was all but digging finger-holes into the wood of the desk moves to grab the nearest object (A  _screw_ , as luck would have it. He'd finished with his welding and the check-ups on the meters before Janine had decided to wander into the basement with payback on her mind. What was the screw for? He had no idea. Couldn't remember. Probably nothing important, but then again-) and he pretends to be examining it. ‘ _What are the odds?’_  Janine had said. And he’d known the exact number at the time although, things as they were at the current moment, it would prove hard for him to even try and remember them, being as it were that blood is still bunched in a specific part of his anatomy. A specific part which, by the way, Janine finally sees fit to release, moving her jaw a bit to alleviate the fatigue her muscles are surely feeling “W-why are you asking?” 

“I thought I'd heard..." there is a pause "Didn't you hear anything?"

“Nothing at all” Egon says as casually as he can. He’s squeezing the screw so tightly in his hand that it kind of hurts. He briefly glances down at Janine for a moment, finding her eyes warm and reassuring on him ‘ _Should_ _I continue?’_  

He could laugh. Clearly she’s been awaiting for payback time for that time he gave her oral on the oblivious presence of a very drunk Peter Venkman. His chin bobs down just once and she smiles, fingers already around his length again. He sets his jaw, afraid of what will come out of his mouth should he open it. Fuck.  _This is ridiculous_ , Egon thinks.  _This is beyond juvenile._  

And he would be lying if he even tried to tell himself it wasn’t also unbelievably arousing.  

“-gon. Egon? Did you hear me?” 

Janine takes his cock in as far as it will go and all but  _purrs_  around him; not a sound, merely a vibration. Soft as velvet. Egon feels himself jolting, head falling back the slightest. 

“Hm-”  

“Is that a yes or a no?” 

“ _Mmmyes_ ” he all but sighs, despite himself. He has no idea of what he just replied to but he’s hoping it keeps Ray from coming down and seeing what’s going on. Janine’s still taking him in and out slowly, but it’s also deeper than she was taking him before and he feels the tightening knots of his climax ready to come undone. His hand tenses in her hair and he grimaces, trying to keep the moan building up in his chest from coming out. 

“So?” Ray presses 

“Hm?” 

“ _Have_ you taken your break today?” Ray sounds a bit worried. At least he still sounds like he’s at the door. Janine slows down and give him a moment to breathe, just enough that he can find his normal voice to reply. 

“I... have” a pause during which he swallows thickly “Thanks, Ray” 

“Alright, well, I think you should take another, you sound like you’re coming down with something” 

“N-noted” Egon grunts, trapping the sounds of his ecstasy behind his throat as Janine charges again, seemingly determined to keep him right on the edge of orgasm for as long as she can. 

“I’m gonna take a shower, OK? No turning on the washer while I’m there” his voice says he's already turning to leave. Egon allows himself another whimpering hum- “By the way, have you seen Janine? Her desk’s empty” 

Her laughter vibrates next to his thigh as he releases him, just a soundless breath but still enough that he has to keep his body tensed to stop his hips from jerking forward. 

“No” Egon says, perhaps a bit too defensively. 

“OK, OK, I was just asking! She probably went to get a drink or something...” Again, Janine muffles her laughter against his leg and Egon feels himself pulsing with the need to be back within her “Anyway, if you see her, tell her the second-floor bathroom’s occupied, OK? We don’t want a repeat from when she caught Ron in there with no towel on- anyway, see you in a while” 

Ray’s footballs move away from the basement door and upstairs and Egon looks down on Janine incredulously. 

“You caught Alexander-?” he whispers. 

"I don't want to talk about it" she says, making a face.

"But-" 

“Do you  _really_  wanna chat about that  _right now_?” Janine hisses amusedly, a playful hand pumping him with slow, deliberate movements before giving him a squeeze. His hips jerk forward a bit and she has to hold him in place, looking at him with a self-satisfied, teasing face. He sets his jaw, swallowing “Are you gonna behave yourself and let me finish you off?” 

He almost says ‘ _Yes,_ _m’am_ _’._ Instead, he nods, licking his lips. She throws him another one of those looks charged with delight and smugness before placing a small kiss on his tip taking him in immediately after, moaning in a way that would be way too loud for his taste, had he any space left in his mind for it- whatever little space he  _did_  have is completely wiped away by the vibrations, pleasure erupting along his spine, so intense that he has to grit his teeth to keep himself from crying out- not that he succeeds.  

“Fuck... _Janine_!” he almost whines. Janine’s fingers and nails tease his lower stomach, going further up under his shirt in caresses that make him squirm and struggle to keep still. A few pumps more is all that it takes. He barely strangles out a warning that makes Janine take him down as far as she can and he comes with his nails digging into the desk and his head falling back, mouth open in a long groan. His toes curl inside his shoes and his heartbeat booms so hard that he can feel it throughout his whole body. 

It takes him a moment to be able to think anything other than curses and praises and look down on Janine, who’s wiping the corners of her mouth with the tips of her fingers, easing his cock back into his underwear with her other hand. Something about the self-satisfied air she has –she seems to take great pride on reducing him to a quivering, moaning mess, something he would say he doesn’t quite get... except, he  _does_ \- makes him wish he had any energy to pin her down on the desk and make her scream herself hoarse; it’s at times like this that it dawns on him just how much power she has over him and it’s always rather frightening. He could try to justify himself and blame the hormonal release or the fact that his head was still spinning, but in the end and even when Janine’s body is elsewhere instead of pressed against him, he still feels it; and he still feels the impulse to escape, to build more walls and hide himself inside them. 

But only in the back of his head, because deep inside he still trusts her with his life. That in itself is very frightening but so, so liberating. 

She nudges him to move a little to the back so she can support herself on his thighs and stand up, practically slithering over him by force of the desk’s edge and her own numb legs. Her face is so close to him that he can feel her eyelashes brush against his neck, then his chin, then his cheek and finally his temple, right before she kisses him softly there. Her weight over him helps him ground himself. 

“Well, my knees are a bit sore, but it’s worth it just for seeing you like this” she mutters into his skin, her tone is adoring. 

“Like what?” he’s genuinely curious. 

“You know” she half-shrugs, and he’s just about to explain to her that no, he doesn’t, when she continues, sounding a bit bashful “Just... gorgeous” 

There it is again, the over-whelming adoration that makes him want to run away because of how much it makes him feel his chest cavity filled to the brim with fluttering coleopters. He’s, as Peter would put it,  _well and truly screwed_. 

But, he ponders as he turns his head to kiss the side of her chin, his arms coming down to wrap around her frame, it’s not terrible. It’s not even bad. He might even dare to say it’s great. They hear the door open and the sound of Ecto’s wheels on the garage and Janine sighs. 

“Well, that’s my cue” she grunts, getting to her feet, stretching her legs as she runs a hand over her hair, smoothing down any possible proof that Egon’s hand was there “At least Peter and Winston didn’t come in right in the middle of things, huh?” 

“I am starting to doubt that would have deterred us” he says. She considers it but then makes a gesture as though telling herself to not go there. But before she can leave, he reaches for her hands with both of his and gives them a soft squeeze. Words are the bane of his existence when it comes to something he can’t write equations for, but he finds that sometimes she understands even so, even in some cases where he’s done his best not to be understood. The hand-squeezes are one of the few compromises they’ve reached in that aspect. He doesn’t have to say what he doesn’t feel comfortable saying, but he still let’s her know. She smiles –it's a smile that‘s soft and warm, just a hint in the way her eyes crinkle and the corners of her mouth move, and he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t make him think gravity has been tampered with because he could  _swear_  he floats- and he releases her. Both of them have work to do and he’s been distracted enough already. 

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet, though, Dr. Spengler” she drops in a mock-ominous tone when she’s already walking up the stairs. He turns just in time to see her wink at him playfully and disappear through the door.

There it is again, that look. Is this how canaries feel when a cat looks at them?

If so, there has never been a more eager canary. 

**Author's Note:**

> C'mon, you all knew what was coming.
> 
> ...in retrospective, that might be the worst possible choice of words. Bruh.
> 
> Title references to Def Leppard's 'Pour some sugar on me' because I'm a sucker for vaguely inappropriate songs.


End file.
